


set the spiral in motion

by GreyMichaela



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Chirping as Flirting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kneeling, M/M, TK can't be still, Tiny bit of Angst, not really but the same idea?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: TK’s knee jigs against Ivan’s as he peruses the menu, and Ivan absently puts a hand on it, stopping the bouncing.“Be still,” he says.TK freezes. When Ivan looks up, his eyes are wide but he’s not moving. Or talking. Ivan frowns.“Feeling okay?”TK’s mouth works briefly before he finds words. “I—yep. Great. Wonderful. Peachy, even. You could say—”“Oh my god shut up,” Ivan says, and TK’s mouth snaps closed.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Ivan Provorov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 270





	set the spiral in motion

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for Seb, who I adore with my whole heart. I'm not a Flyers fan, although I do have a few favorites on the team (Carter Hart must be protected) so please be gentle, I tried my hardest to get the characterization right!
> 
> (RPF disclaimer, work of fiction)

Travis Konecny can’t stop moving. Bouncing a knee, tapping a toe, fidgeting in place like there are ants in his pants—it drives Ivan  _ crazy _ but no one else seems to even notice.

TK climbs on Nolan during training camp as Nolan is talking to Giroux. Neither Nolan nor G seem to notice him clinging to Nolan’s back like a spider monkey.

He slides onto the bench, underestimates his velocity, and falls right off the end. This is met by delighted chirping that TK seems to find as hilarious as the rest of the team as he rights himself and flops back down.

In the training room during social media training, he can’t stop squirming. He braids the strings of his hoodie together, tugging the hood over his head until only his nose pokes out, shifting his weight in his seat constantly. During media scrums, he’s slightly better, but not by much, moving from foot to foot, chewing on his hoodie strings, and generally annoying the shit out of Ivan.

Nolan gets diagnosed with migraines right before the season starts, and it takes a while for Ivan to realize TK finds reasons to be around him after that. Ivan’s busy focusing on his own game and it’s over a month before he catches on to the fact that TK is almost always beside him on the bench and usually drifts over to be near him in the locker room and when they go out. TK doesn’t acknowledge it, barely acknowledges  _ him, _ busy baiting Gudas or arguing with G, but once Ivan sees it, he can’t turn around without tripping over him.

Ivan debates whether to confront him on it. But then he comes out of the showers one day to find TK sitting in his stall, elbows on his knees and head down. Ivan stops and contemplates him. TK isn’t a big guy, but he’s never seemed small before. Before he can think better of it, Ivan sits down next to him, close enough to touch. TK visibly gathers himself, pulling his customary cheeky grin into place, and Ivan stops him with a hand on his knee.

“Don’t,” he says quietly, and TK deflates.

They sit for a minute as Ivan considers what to say. TK bounces his knee and Ivan presses down, holding it still without thinking about it. TK releases a breath and subtly leans into Ivan’s shoulder, just enough that Ivan can feel his weight, and the silence gathers around them.

Then Farabee wanders in from the showers and Ivan squeezes TK’s thigh and stands.

“He’s going to be fine,” he says, low enough only TK can hear him.

TK glances up at him and then away, ducking his head. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his shoulders, and when he looks up again, his smile is back in place. “‘Course he is. It’s fuckin’ Patty. Nothing keeps him down.”

TK ambushes him on their day off with ice cream and an offer of minigolf that Ivan knows he should refuse. 

He follows him around the green, sulking quietly to himself as TK crows over the shot he just made. The sun is shining and it’s only mildly chilly, but TK is wearing the ugliest camo hoodie Ivan’s ever seen, and every time he stops moving—which admittedly isn’t often—he huddles into its voluminous depths like a raccoon hiding in a pile of garbage. Ivan says as much. 

TK pokes his nose out and glares at him. “That was mean,” he says. “But kinda funny. And probably true.”

Ivan takes a picture of him and posts it in the group chat. The responses are immediate. 

_ Trash goblin lol _

_ Who’s the hobo _

_ Don’t mock homeless people, Provy, it’s rude  _

Ivan shows TK, who scowls and sticks his nose in the air. 

“Patty will back me,” he says, a little too defiantly. 

“Only because you’re married,” Ivan says, leading the way to the exit. 

TK sighs loudly through his nose. “We’re  _ not— _ look, what’s the word for when you’re best friends and you never wanna be apart and you spend all your time together—“

Ivan eyes him dubiously. “Soulmates?” he suggests. 

“But like, as friends!” TK exclaims. “Because I don’t wanna kiss Patty, ugh, gross.”

“Platonic,” Ivan says. 

“If you say so. He’s my bro. But not my  _ bro, _ if you get my drift.”

“No one gets your drift,” Ivan tells him, sighing. 

They get lunch at a tiny diner Ivan likes because they leave him alone. It’s crowded, so he and TK squeeze in at a corner table in the back. TK’s knee jigs against Ivan’s as he peruses the menu, and Ivan absently puts a hand on it, stopping the bouncing.

“Be still,” he says.

TK freezes. When Ivan looks up, his eyes are wide but he’s not moving. Or talking. Ivan frowns.

“Feeling okay?”

TK’s mouth works briefly before he finds words. “I—yep. Great. Wonderful. Peachy, even. You could say—”

“Oh my god shut up,” Ivan says, and TK’s mouth snaps closed.

He sounds almost meek when he gives the server his order, and Ivan frowns at him again but decides not to push it.

  
  


Ivan scowls at the contents of his fridge. He’d meant to go shopping, he really had, but somehow there are always better things to do. He pulls a takeout menu from the drawer and is reading it when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s TK, huddled inside his horrible hoodie. There are dark circles under his eyes that stops Ivan’s instinctive chirp, and instead he wordlessly steps aside to let him in.

TK makes for the fridge and makes a noise of disgust when he opens it.

“I know,” Ivan says. “I need to go to the store. But there’s beer?”

TK’s already pulling one out. He pops the cap and drains half of it, grabs another, and takes them both to the couch, where he sprawls out. Ivan trails after him, not entirely sure what to do.

“Why are you, like, here?” he asks, sitting on the other end of the couch.

TK finishes his first beer and tries to toss it onto the end table. He misses and it falls on the floor. Ivan winces.

“Bored,” TK says. “And Patty can’t entertain me, so.” He opens the second beer.

Ivan admits defeat and orders dinner for them both. TK fidgets as they wait for the food. Bounces his knee restlessly while they eat. Plucks at a corner of the couch cushion where the seam is unraveling as Ivan scrolls through movie choices, sighs loudly, and returns to bouncing his knee.

He finds fault with the first movie, objecting loudly to the implausible plot, so Ivan turns it off and chooses another. TK mutters under his breath but Ivan elects to consider that tacit agreement, settling in to focus on the opening credits. Beside him, TK slouches even harder, still fidgeting, but says nothing more.

Halfway through the movie, Ivan’s had enough. He sits up abruptly, making TK blink in surprise.

“Enough,” he says.

TK’s brow knits. “Enough… what?”

_ “Squirming,” _ Ivan says. “Can you not be still for five seconds?”

“No,” TK says simply.

“ADHD?”

“Prob’ly.” TK plucks at the couch seam again and Ivan exhales in frustration and grabs his wrist.

“Stop,” he growls.

TK obeys instantly, his whole body going still, and Ivan suddenly sees them as if from an outsider’s perspective. He’s barely a foot away from TK, their only point of connection Ivan’s hand clamped on TK’s wrist, but TK is… it’s almost like he’s holding his breath, waiting for whatever Ivan’s going to do next.

“Do you want help?” Ivan asks before he can think better of it, and he doesn’t even have time to regret the words before TK is nodding.

“Please,” he says, and Ivan tightens his grip and pulls.

It takes some squirming and rearranging, and Ivan gets one of TK’s weirdly pointy elbows in the gut during, but finally they’re both on their sides on the couch. TK’s back is nestled against Ivan’s front, and Ivan has a leg and an arm both draped around TK’s slim frame.

TK’s hair tickles Ivan’s nose. It smells like coconut, and makes something twist low in Ivan’s belly. TK is lying very still, as if afraid to move.

“Okay?” Ivan asks.

The tension drains from TK like water through sand, leaving him limp and heavy in Ivan’s arms. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and he sounds almost dazed. “Yeah. Okay.”

Ivan tightens his grip and turns the movie back on.

TK falls asleep a few minutes before the end, turning his face to press it into Ivan’s chest, and as the credits roll, Ivan finds he doesn’t really remember how the movie played out. TK is solid and warm and  _ still, _ and Ivan thinks vaguely he shouldn’t like it as much as he does. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift.

When TK wakes, he seems calmer, somehow, as if a weight’s been lifted from him. He gets up, gives Ivan a fistbump, and leaves with no more fanfare than that, and Ivan stays on the couch for a while longer, wondering what just happened. Finally, he goes to bed, still unsure.

That’s the end of it, he assumes, but he forgot to reckon with TK, who shows up on his doorstep two days later, arms wrapped around himself.

“It helped” is all he says, and Ivan doesn’t look too closely at his own emotions as he moves back so TK can come inside.

It becomes a ritual, a thing they do before games, before media events, sometimes after bad losses. TK fits perfectly in Ivan’s arms, tucking himself in under Ivan’s chin and burying his face in his shoulder. 

They only do it at Ivan’s place, on his couch, and they never talk about it. TK almost always falls asleep, Ivan rarely does. Sometimes he watches movies with subtitles on and the volume down low, although it never seems to bother TK. Other times, he scrolls through Instagram or reads the group chat.

It’s ostensibly for TK, but Ivan finds comfort in it too. It helps, somehow, to pin TK down, hold him still, and feel the way he goes limp in Ivan’s arms, surrendering wholly.

TK sits next to him even more often now, and when he’s being especially unbearable, all Ivan has to do is put a hand on TK’s thigh or even press their knees together, and TK stops fidgeting immediately.

He’s also playing better. Still starting fights, because it’s Teeks, but his concentration seems sharper, his focus staying steady for longer, and Coach is giving him more ice time as his point production goes up.

It’s too much to hope that no one will notice, of course. G being the captain he is, corners him after practice one day.

“What are you doing to TK?” he asks.

“Literally nothing,” Ivan says, taken aback. “We’re just… hanging out more, because he misses Patty.”

G inspects him and Ivan tries not to be intimidated. He has a feeling he fails miserably, judging by the way G’s eyebrow twitches.

_ You’re like five inches taller, _ he tells himself, but it doesn’t help. 

“Well, whatever it is, keep it up,” G says, and—okay, Ivan didn’t expect  _ that. _

“What?” he says feebly.

“He’s playing better,” G says. “You hadn’t noticed?”

“I mean.” Ivan shrugs. “Sure. But it’s nothing I’m doing.”

G manages to somehow look annoyed and disdainful without moving a muscle. Ivan is faintly impressed.

“Just keep doing it,” G says, and that’s the end of that.

The game against the Penguins is a disaster. TK  _ hates _ the Penguins, so he’s always a nervy, jittery mess before games. He hates playing in Pittsburgh even more, deep in enemy territory where he’s recognized on sight but greeted with derision instead of delight. 

Ivan is a good Flyer, he doesn’t like the Pens either, but he doesn’t despise them the way TK seems to. Still, he isn’t any happier about losing to them than Teeks is, or anyone else on the team, and he really doesn’t blame G for breaking his stick on the bench before they stomp down the tunnel.

He’s also unsurprised to find TK following him to his room when they get back to the hotel. There are purple smudges beneath TK’s eyes, and his chin is tipped up defiantly. He’s holding himself still, but Ivan knows him well enough by now to recognize it’s costing him dearly.

He pushes the door open and lets TK slip through first. Inside the room, he closes the door and takes off his suit coat. TK’s stripping to his boxers without a word, hands shaky, and as soon as he’s done, he climbs on the bed, facedown.

Ivan watches him for a minute. TK is trembling, he realizes, and his gut twists in sympathy.

“Come on,” TK says impatiently into the mattress. “Don’t make me beg, Ivan—”

“I’m not,” Ivan says, and crawls onto the bed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and lowers himself until he’s blanketing TK’s body from head to toe. TK takes a shuddery breath and lets it out, reaching up with one hand to briefly clasp Ivan’s bicep.

“Fucking Sidney  _ fucking _ Crosby,” he mumbles, but his body is already looser.

“You showed him,” Ivan says against his ear. “That was beautiful.”

TK twitches a shoulder, almost a shrug. “Still lost.”

“Maybe, but you also stole the puck from fucking Sidney fucking Crosby and scored with it,” Ivan murmurs. He rubs TK’s arm in slow, soothing motions.

“What are we doing?” TK sounds dazed, exhausted and small, and it makes something in Ivan’s chest feel tight and hot.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe.” TK rolls his head just a little. “When are you gonna get tired of it?”

Ivan props himself on an elbow, startled. “What makes you think I will?”

“You will.” TK closes his eyes as if the discussion’s over, and that’s—unacceptable.

Ivan puts a finger under TK’s chin and lifts it. TK’s eyes fly open when he presses their mouths together, but within seconds they flutter shut again. His lips part on a sigh and Ivan delights in the way he goes liquid beneath him, sweet and willing.

“I won’t,” he says when he finally pulls away.

TK blinks up at him. His eyes are bottomless from this close. His lips twitch in a tiny smile, and the tightness in Ivan's chest loosens, spreads into warmth. “Yeah, okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You are welcome to [come talk to me on Tumblr](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com) but I'll warn you now that I'm a Pens fan, so just know that going in. :P


End file.
